


Quirks of Fate

by TheOneRingOfSmut (Kosho)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, I'm Going to Hell, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Shameless Smut, Smut, there will be more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 22:05:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/TheOneRingOfSmut
Summary: A pending collection of nothing but smut, filled with various pairings (eventually).





	

Jacob swept a hand through her dark locks slowly, relief washing over him. Two long years, he had known her, two long years, he had spent pining for her. He thought it pointless at first, she wasn’t going to stay forever. Had plans to return to her home country, temporarily stable enough for her to be lent out for an extended stay in London. Assuming it was a purely physical attraction at first, her looks just unusual enough to breathe new life into the place. It probably was physical then, but it became more, and fast. She was capable, keeping up with him at every turn, thinking several steps ahead, meticulous in her methods. Most loaners couldn’t be arsed to actually care about the problems of the places they were sent. It wasn’t ‘home’, only their problem as far as sharing the creed went. She was different, far from home, she embraced it like it was just down the road, showing concern for his people, for the problems springing up. 

 

It was one night several months ago that the feelings he had pushed aside finally leaked out. A bit drunk, leaning on her as she led him back to his flat. She was shorter than him, but strong, supporting nearly his full weight with the barest of stumbles. Just inside the door, he backed her to the wall, cradling her face, slipping, struggling to stay upright. His lips crashed haphazardly against hers, too late in realizing she might not respond so well to such a sudden advance, fully expecting her to slap him, to leave him in a heap on the floor to take care of himself. It came as a mild shock when she didn’t try to free herself from him, relenting to the invasion of his tongue, her face heating up under his palms. He liked the way she looked like that, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips foundering like struggling to grab hold of words that failed to pass by. 

 

“Aya…’m sorry…” he sighed. 

 

“I...I have to go.” she mumbled. 

 

As he imagined, she rushed out, leaving him alone. Of course she didn’t feel the same for him, he was loud, probably drank too much, didn’t stick to plans as well as he should. Any number of reasons she didn’t share the feeling he had for her sprang to mind. 

 

Jacob stared down at Aya, tracing his fingers across her lips slowly, examining her features, the nervous tension she wore. He had long since learned her reasons for running away that night, her body could handle pain in many forms, but her heart couldn’t. Had taken it as a drunken lie, assumed he was toying with her. She was afraid he’d use her up and throw her to the side, that she’d fall for him and he’d decide she wasn’t worth his time, and a host of other things he hadn’t expected from a woman like her. Two years in London had undone eighteen more in her home country, that mild, if shy manner she had crumbling away finally. If he had less restraint, he’d have already been on her, pale curves far too tempting in the moonbeams filtering through the window. Two years of feelings, bottled up, two years of desire, and two years of physical need, all piling up, aimed at her, but he held back. She deserved the time it would take to express everything twisting inside him to her. 

 

He captured her lips smoothly, tongue prodding softly for entry. His fingers swept down her neck, spreading over her shoulders, slowly, inch by inch of bared skin like his fingertips were scorching her outlines in his brain. He had reached her ankles, ascending once again before he thought of stopping, a stifled moan lost in his mouth. That sound was a beacon, something finally going right in his life, at that moment, Aya was his world, and everything was fine. London could go one night without him. He broke the kiss, mouth trailing more down her chin, her throat, shoulders, chest, stopping at her left breast. Jacob grasped her right loosely, sweeping his calloused thumb against her nipple, her head falling back. He gently bit marks on her breast, glancing up at her, the sight of her like this was thrilling, and he wanted more of it. Letting go, he followed her curves, fingertips dancing over the crest of her hip, along the scar gracing her leg from hip to knee, a scar he was told came from a blade, in the heat of battle in her home. 

His hand wiggled between her thighs, pressing between her folds. Aya gasped audibly that time, his fingers slipping against her, thumb circling her slowly. He liked the way she writhed under his touch, legs shivering ever so slightly. When she explained her hesitation to him, he had questioned why, and learned, much to his complete surprise, that she hadn’t so much as touched herself in this way. Her lineage was filled with assassins, that much was a given, but first and foremost, many came from a devout background, and held a belief that women were naturally impure things. Inflicting death was an unavoidable part of her path, but she had willingly chosen to maintain her purity, less a thing to concern herself with. How anyone could avoid temptation enough to not indulge on occasion was mystifying to him, yet all the better for it. Something about the act itself was made more thrilling by the idea that he  _ just wasn’t supposed to be doing this. _ He pressed a finger in slowly, smirking at the way she bit her lip, covered her mouth like anything more was a punishable offense the gods themselves might smite her for. 

 

A second finger joined the first, steady, still gentle, though he spread them out after a bit. He didn’t miss the signs that she was uncomfortable, but she didn’t bother to stop him, eyes closing to try and block out the twinges of discomfort. Anyone else and he might have teased her about how wet she was already, how  _ naughty _ it was that she was letting him work her up like this, but damn, he cared and didn’t want to push her away. Equal parts not wanting to re-experience the world without her nearby, and the maddening pressure between his legs. Clenching down on his fingers, he groaned, the sensation urging a throbbing reminder of his own situation. Aya raised herself against his touch, whimpering between the barely there spaces between her fingers. When her body settled, flushed, overheated, and struggling to level out, he twisted his hand free, sweeping his tongue across his fingers.

 

“Lemme know if this is too much for you, love.” he said, kneading her thighs with concern. 

 

Aya forced her eyes open, fixed on his, lips trapped between her teeth, shaking her head vehemently. She never was a quitter, he already knew that. Didn’t think that would apply here though, part of him wondered if he had somehow backed her into a corner and she was giving in because she just couldn’t fight anymore, or if she was holding out like this because it was what she wanted. When he asked before, she insisted it was her choice, but the uncertainty in her expression left him curious. 

 

“D...don’t stop…” she murmured finally, unflinchingly staring up at him still. 

 

Strange how her voice sounded exactly as he imagined it might. Wasn’t planning to tell her he had spent more than one occasion thinking of her, mind vaguely trying to picture what it could be like, never guessing he’d actually have the chance to find out. Parting her legs, he moved between them, aching length prodding her thigh as he bent to kiss her once more, needing the warmth of her lips again. He was grinning when he let go this time, brow raised, shaking his head.

 

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, love. What kind of spell you cast on me, but you’ve got my head filled with the craziest things I’ve ever thought.” he said with a faint chuckle. 

 

He fastened her knees around his waist, supporting most of his weight on his left arm, the right held still where her neck and shoulder joined. Staring down at her, she grasped his shoulder loosely, feeling her nervousness like she wore it on her skin. Her other hand rested just under his chest, her pulsing racing as he aligned himself with her. 

 

“I’m not going to hurt you any more than necessary…” he assured her. “If you’d like, I’ll make it quick, give you a chance to get through it?” 

Three words, three simple words had been his undoing. He hadn’t expected them, out of nowhere. He had never questioned it once when they worked together, but hearing it said so plainly threw him for a moment. 

 

“I trust you.” she said. 

 

He swallowed hard, throat bobbing slightly, unable to tear his eyes from hers. He pressed against her slowly, a tighter fit than he had anticipated even for as wet as she was, how much he tried to prepare her for this. Her teeth clenched, squeezing his arm, huffing out a heavy breath. Jacob knew she was trying to relax, trying to make it a little easier. He weighed the options in his mind, get it over quickly, might hurt more at first, but it would be done and out of the way, or take his time, knowing it might be drawn out longer. Not that he had even the faintest fucking clue what it must be like to be a woman, he tried to think which  _ he’d _ prefer if the situation were reversed. He cupped her cheek, pressing his brow to hers, mouthing a quick apology to her, hips drawing back slightly, stopping just shy of slamming against her. He quickly captured her lips, stilling against her, waiting for some sign as to whether it was too much for her or if she wanted him to continue. Aya loosened her hold on his arm, his tongue twisting with hers, her heavy, strained breathing levelling out. Raising her hips slightly, he took that as his sign, keeping his pace slow and gentle for now, building in speed and force as she could handle it. Leaning against her fully, his hand moved to the back of her neck, biting and sucking marks along her throat and shoulders. 

 

Sure, she might be a bit upset about the bruising marks he had left on her, but for now he was unconcerned beyond the curious need to figuratively put his name all over her. Hell, she hadn’t even told him whether or not she even  _ could _ feel the same way for him that he did for her, but here, now, she was his, all the reason he needed. It was clumsy, the way she raised to meet him now, bucking against her harder, tasting the faint salt of her skin. Sound echoed throughout his flat, her gasping cries unexpected, but appreciated. She was the one most concerned about it, but him? He didn’t mind. Let the entire city hear, it was the sound of two years’ worth of pent up feelings finding a way out, the sound of him showing her what she had neatly cut away from her life, the possibility of a life with him. He hoped she understood that much, that he was serious, he knew she intended to go back, but if he just  _ tried _ to express it, would she reconsider? Learn to love this place in the way she loved the little details of her hometown? 

 

Part of him hated the look of longing she got when she thought of it, of the stupid ages old castle, the smell of the sea she once said she loved, of warm summer breezes, spring air filled with the scent of fresh blossoms and snowy winters. He hated it because he knew it meant she was thinking of it, waiting for the day she could return like he didn’t even exist, wasn’t enough to sway her mind. Now, that look was fixed on him, filled with a desire that was unexplainable to her, a need for something she couldn’t put to words, understanding only that what she was chasing was something he could give her. He sought her ear, nibbling on the lobe, tugging gently, grinding into her faster. Her breath hitched, swayed underneath him, the frame creaking. Groaning, he struggled to get the words out between heavy, hot breaths, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger slowly. He felt the way she clenched around him, closing in on the edge she was about to tumble over. 

 

“Come on love...don’t fight it…” he growled, biting firmer. 

 

Her nails scraped against his shoulders, down his chest, arching up against him. She freed a hand from him, reaching towards her mouth again, though he managed to stop her in time, holding her wrist. Not this time, he wanted to hear her, the unrestrained way she sounded when she reached her peak. Unable to muffle her cries, her head dropped back, pressed hard against the pillow. Bubbling up her throat, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, moaning louder than he thought her capable of, his name a breathless gasp on her lips. Fuck if it wasn’t almost impossible to hold back just then, already expecting he wouldn’t last as long as he had wanted to, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t planning to draw it out as long as he could. In those two years since he had given up all good sense in pursuit of her, he hadn’t been with anyone, no other woman appealed to him in the way she did, no one he wanted, craved more than her, and aside from a little self-relief every now and again, he had  _ waited _ . Her legs moved, wrapped along his, and all thought of restraint had vanished. His thrusts became shallow, faster, then slower, heavier, the tight hold on him too much, as deep as he could be. Stealing a quick kiss, he panted against her lips, biting and tugging in search of a way to express the way it struck him, firing sharp electric tingles through every inch of his body, throbbing, pulsing in a way that left him almost dizzy when he came. Thick bursts of heat pooled inside her, waiting until the last waves washed away before he twisted free with a heavy sigh, moving to lay next to her, burying his face in her neck. 

 

“Jacob...I…” she began. 

 

He didn’t want to interrupt, but he was concerned about what she might say if he let her finish that statement. Pressing a finger to her lips, he shook his head, unwilling to look at what her expression might be at that particular time. 

 

“Aya, wait. I need to get this out first.” he said. “Maybe I’m askin’ too much of ya love, but if I don’t say it straight now…” he began, his arm draping lazily about her waist. “Maybe I didn’t make myself very clear before, but I didn’t really get it then. I’m in love with you. I want you to stay, I don’t want to let you leave without at least tellin’ you that first.” 

 

Jacob finally bit back his nerves enough to look, her eyes wide, thoughtful. Cheeks flushed a deep pink, easily visible on her pale skin. Aya met his gaze, swiping her tongue across her lips nervously. 

 

“I was just going to tell you that I received a letter the other day. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you or not. They want me here until matters are resolved, ‘pleased with the work I’m doing here.’ I...am staying.” she told him, her eyes falling to her fidgeting fingers. “I’m still not sure if this is the best thing to be telling you, but...I...I’ve been in love with you for some time.” 

 

Jacob frowned at the news, his brows drawing together in obvious confusion. “You let me make a fool of myself chasin’ you and you only tell me this now, love?” 

 

She nodded slightly. “That night you kissed me, I thought it was just because I was there. I was afraid of what might happen if I let myself believe you meant it. There were nights I was ready to write home asking for permission to return home so I didn’t complicate matters here…” 

 

He prodded her forehead lightly, shaking his head. “You think too much. I admit it was probably the wrong time, but I mean, I  _ tried _ to make it obvious.” his tone softened slightly, directing her to look at him once more. “So...what do you say? Give me a chance, I won’t let you down. I swear if I do, I’ll pack your bags and pen the letter myself.” 

 

Aya couldn’t imagine an offer better than that. If it went well, there was no problem, but if she was unhappy, he would prepare her return personally, and she could go back home and forget the man that turned her entire world upside down, undid everything she had held onto so easily? 

 

“What do I have to lose?” she asked with a nervous laugh. 

A wicked smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, and she knew it was a mistake to ask such a thing around him. 

 

“Aside from your virginity? Nothing, really.” he teased. 

 

“I’m going to regret this…” she mumbled. 


End file.
